I Didn't Plan This, But it Happened
by LittleMartian
Summary: Fed up with a Ministry career going nowhere fast, Hermione receives an offer from her former Professor. She accepts, and thinks that it's going to be just the thing she needs. But, when Draco Malfoy's son is sorted into Gryffindor, it's not going to be easy for her. And there is the matter of her soon-to-be ex-husband, and Draco's dead wife. Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**This is just something that I am testing out to see if people like it or not. I am going to _attempt_ to write 3 stories at a time, and I do not necessarily have high hopes to start with. But I will do my best, although I make no promises. I don't really have a direction for this story to go; I am just making it up as I go along.**

**Let us begin with my (epic fail) attempt at a Dramione story. Please let me know if there is something that I can do better, or if my characters are way to OOC. Oh and I am not exactly familiar with British terminology, considering that I live in New York. Although I do hope to study in England one day. So please tell me the British word for American things I say, and I will change them.**

**This is my second story ever, and I hope I do okay with it.**

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_Okay, Granger, this is the last one. And then you get to go home._

Hermione ended the signature on the parchment with a flourish, put the quill down on her desk, and capped the ink jar. She eyed the stack of just completed papers with a grimace. The amount of signed documents reached nearly past her head when she was sitting down. But at last, she was done, and now she could relax. She stretched out her hand that cramped from holding the quill for so long. Sighing, her head fell into her hands as she looked at the clock hanging on the wall above one of the many bookcases throughout her room. _4:59_, the damned thing read and Hermione couldn't wait until it was time for her to go home. She watched the minute hand fastidiously, as it went around with a _tick_, counting the seconds until she was able to leave. _52…53…54…5—_

"Hermione!" A voice accompanying a knock called from the doorway to her office. "Are you busy?"

"She's not here…" Hermione said weakly, not even fooling herself for one minute. "Go bother someone else."

The door opened with a soft _click_. The clicking of heeled shoes on the tiled floor let her know exactly who this intruder was. _I really have to get a lock for that door_. She thought.

Looking up, she saw her assistant, Padma Patil enter the room. While they were never close in school, when Hermione applied for a job working at the Ministry of Magic following the War, Padma had been assigned to work as her assistant. It had been awkward the for the two of them at first, having not spoken in school all that much, and then being forced to work together by Hermione's supervisor. But after spending an all-nighter on a particularly difficult project, relying mostly on Pepper-Up potions and coffee, they had begun to get along. Since then, they worked together quite a bit. Hermione actually started to think of Padma as a friend.

But all thoughts of friendship went right out the window as she saw exactly what Padma carried in her hands. _More papers?_ She groaned. _You have _got_ to be kidding me._

"You know, Hermione," Padma was saying. "Joseph should just sign these himself. I don't know why he needs _your_ signature."

Joseph Ferntree was both her and Padma's supervisor. He was old (he had to be at _least_ a hundred or so years old), cross, crass, and always tried to feel up his female subordinates. Especially the muggleborn workers. Most complaints made about him were just brushed off as it being part of his _charm_. Even so long after the War, people still thought that listening to a muggleborn was just as useful as trying to hold water in the palm of your hand. It did not amount to much. Well…at least they were until Hermione came along. Having one-third of the Golden Trio support you in your claim against your boss was exactly the kind of thing the female workers needed in their complaints. Since then the harassments stopped, mostly anyway, and Joseph kept to himself, in his office on the 17th floor.

"Because of my name." She replied, as she always did. "It looks good to have Harry Potter's best friend sign a document that will probably never go into effect."

Padma shook her head, sighing. "Don't talk like that, Hermione." She dumped the stack of parchment on Hermione's desk, next to the ones that Hermione had just completed. Goodness, this bunch was taller than the previous. She sat in one of the leather chairs opposite Hermione's desk. Padma eyed her with a serious look. "You know the laws we pass are important."

"Important, yes." Hermione nodded her head, agreeing with her friend. "But useless."

"Not all of them—," Padma put her hands on her hips.

"Tell me," she said in all seriousness. "How many of the documents that you've seen me sign actually _go into effect_ in the 10 years that I've been here? The Organization for Centaurs and House Elves has been breathing down my neck for ages because none of their petitions are being heard. The Committee for Goblin Rights barely wanted anything to do with humans in the first place, and after three years of hitting roadblocks and dead-ends they're ready to give up. And frankly, so am I."

Her temper flared as she ranted about the things that could never be done or fixed. The Wizarding Community just was not ready to change the ways they had always known. Wizards were at the top, of course. And everyone else…was at the bottom. For some….that included Muggleborns. While many common perceptions of people like her had changed over the 10 years since the end of the war, some people's opinions would never change.

"Hermione, you're making a difference here. A lot of things have changed because of you." Padma said quietly.

She was right. Some things had. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. "I'm tired of having a job where all I'm used for is my name, Padma. All I want is to make a difference. A _real_ difference." She said, emphasizing her point when Padma gave her one of _those_ looks.

"So what then?" Her friend asked, crossing her legs. "You quit your job at the Ministry, and then what are you going to do? Remember, you have your daughter to think about, Hermione. And what about Ron? What's he going to say when you tell him?"

"I don't know yet. But I'll come up with a plan, I always do." She said, eyeing the clock. It was 5:07, and time for her to go home. Perhaps maybe permanently, this time. She stood, and then, looking down to grab her purse, she was reminded of the new stack of documents for her to sign. Even the thought of signing her name anymore made her cringe. She looked at the papers, and then at Padma. "I'll finish those tomorrow. I promise."

"Alright then," Padma said, standing as well. "But I knew this was coming, for a long time actually. Then you got _this_ today. I didn't give it to you because you were busy, but I think you might actually like where this is coming from."

"What is it?" Hermione asked as Padma pulled out a letter from the pocket of her suit.

Even from as far away as Padma's hand, Hermione could see the emblem that she had seen every year since she was eleven years old. _A Hogwarts letter? But why_?

Padma handed it to her with a small smile on her face. "It must be from Professor McGonagall. Are you going to open it?"

She felt it in her hand. It was a normal school letter, like the one commonly given to students. Breaking open the wax seal, she pulled out a small card. As she read the contents of the letter, she began to get more excited.

_Mrs. Weasley,_

_ You have been married for so long and yet it feels so odd for me to write your married name, Ms. Granger. See, there I go again, slipping back into an old habit. In any event, Ms. Granger, I must apologize for writing to you on such short notice, but I could not see any other alternative to my situation._

_You see, Ms. Granger, I am not as young as I used to be, and I daresay that I was never young to begin with. I often find it difficult to manage my classes, the younger years as well as the classes preparing students for their various OWLS and NEWTS. I require help, Ms. Granger, and only someone of your caliber came to mind. If it is not too much to ask, I need a new Transfiguration Professor, as well as a head of Gryffindor House. I need _you, _Ms. Granger. _

_If not for the sake of an old Professor that I hope, you think fondly of, then perhaps for the young minds that you can mold, and perhaps shape for a changing world._

_All my best,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Headmistress._

When she finished reading the letter, Hermione looked up. "Padma, I think I've just found a way to make a difference."

_Hogwarts, here I come_.

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**I know this is very short. And believe me; I am not too satisfied with it. On my other stories, my chapters reach a minimum of 5000-8000 words. At max I have done close to 15,000, but this is just to test the waters and see if people would be interested in the idea. The pairing will be Draco and Hermione, and I hope you guys like the idea.**

**Please leave a review so I know whether to keep or trash this idea!**

**Thank you,**

**LM**


	2. Chapter 2

**Because I didn't say this last time, DISCLAIMER. I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER**

**Thank you for the reviews and the follows! It is seriously appreciated. I usually never get chapters out this fast but I am trying to be speedier in terms of actually getting things out there.**

**Anyway, this is the next chapter!**

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She and Padma locked up her office, and after saying goodbye to the other workers on their floor, parted ways by the Floo Network housed in the Ministry. Hermione was still excited over her newest life-changing decision; she could barely remember to calm down enough to speak properly into the Floo. After all, this was _just _the kind of thing that she was looking for. If she really wanted to change people's minds about things that were important to her, then what better way to change those mindsets during the children's formulating years at Hogwarts?

She flooed to the tiny home she shared with her husband and daughter in Ottery St. Catchpole not too far from both The Burrow and the Lovegood home. Ron picked the house out, of course, claiming that he did not want her to be separated from Luna Lovegood, one of her closest friends, but she knew the truth. He did it so that he could run back home whenever he pleased, especially when he had their daughter with him.

Hermione stepped out into the dim lighting of her home, the Floo's bright green glow casting everything with a sickly aura. She should have been surprised that the lights were off and no one was there, but in reality, this had happened so many times that Hermione couldn't really be phased by anything that Ronald Weasley had done as of late. And yet, even as she grew more irritated with him as time went by, she couldn't help but want him to be the first to know about her prospective career change. He was still one of her best friends, after all.

"Ron?" She called out, just for good measure. "Rose?"

Walking through the living room and into the kitchen separated by a small archway, she wasn't surprised to see the mess that awaited her. Pots and pans were thrown into the sink, the spell used to clean them not performed nearly as well. What she assumed was jam had been flung onto the walls and cabinets, on the table there were bags of potato chips of all different tastes and textures, pretzels, and candy. So much so that it had spilled off the table and now the floor was covered with a crumbling mess. The carton of milk was left open on the counter for who knows how long, and their were pieces of bread in the sink.

Walking over to the sink to survey the mess, she noticed the recipe card that she had left out specifically for him. Instructions for a grilled cheese sandwich, nothing too difficult. It was in the exact same place that she left it, and covered with cheese and strawberry jam.

"Honestly Ron," She muttered to herself, "How hard can it be to follow a simple recipe. It's _grilled cheese_. Not rocket science." A pause. "Then again, you probably don't know what rocket science _is_."

Next to the card with her instructions on it was slip of paper torn out from one of Rose's coloring books. There was writing on it, which meant a note from Ron. She could see the drawing of a figure on the opposite side of the paper. Flipping it over, she wanted to see exactly which coloring book Ron had ripped the page out of to use for his note. When she saw the image on the other side, her frustration at her husband grew intensely. It was an outlined drawing of Hogwarts, with several parts sectioned off for the paint-by-numbers system.

The coloring book was really quite astounding, and it was her daughter's favorite. Images of Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and even herself, Ron and Harry decorated its pages. At first, she was embarrassed to have her face plastered across a book that nearly every child in Wizarding Britain was going to get, and Harry agreed with her. Ron of course, loved the attention. After the war, Harry just wanted to live a normal life, and he had gotten it. Twelve long years of normality was just what the doctor ordered for the Boy-Who-Lived. But her daughter's book was enchanted in two very special ways.

For one thing, it had a magical lock on it, so that no one but Rose could open it unless she wished for him or her to. And, the coloring book allowed her to draw out whatever was on her mind, creating an image of it for her to color in. So for things she liked, some of her toys, her grandparents, cousins, anything at all, their images were shown in the book for Rose to color in.

She had no idea how Minerva McGonagall had been able to do it, recruiting Professor Flitwick in the process, but her former teachers had made it for her daughter for her first birthday, saying it was a small gift, when in truth it was priceless to Rose.

_We have _plenty _of paper Ronald Weasley! _She thought angrily. _How could you take one of _these_?_

Flipping the paper back over to read what he had written her, she wondered if it would have been too much to owl her, or send a simple Floo call. She would have responded of course, anything to get her away from the non-stop signatures and procedures.

_Mione,_

_At Mum's. Be back for dinner._

_Ron _

Of course. Whenever he felt like Rose was too much to handle, he went to his mother's house. Now, this wouldn't be a problem ordinarily, if it were not for the fact that her husband sometimes _forgot_ their daughter at his mother's place. She'd come home from work, find him eating food made by Mrs. Weasley and she'd ask where Rose was, and he would look at her questioningly, as if he'd forgotten that he even have a child. Turning around, she eyed her chaotic kitchen and wondered if this wasn't dinner, but from lunchtime. In any event, she would have to go over there eventually, whether it be to retrieve her child, or kill her husband.

Stepping into the Floo, she threw down the powder and disappeared in a burst of green flame.

When she arrived, she noticed that there weren't very many people in the house. Of course, most of the Weasley clan had moved out, the only exceptions were George and Angelina, as well as their children, but most days it seemed like the Burrow was never empty. There were always people around, and today should have been no exception.

"Is someone there?" A warm voice called from the kitchen. Hermione stepped out of the floo and was greeted by the sight of her mother-in-law.

"It's just me, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione said, sounding more tired than she wanted to.

Stepping into the light, Hermione saw her mother-in-law, standing in the archway. Dusting off her apron, the older woman pulled Hermione into a hug. "Hermione, dear, what brings you by?"

At 29 years old, Hermione still felt like that 13-year-old girl, meeting Mrs. Weasley for the first time ever. And the older woman, who was always fretting and worrying about her, still treated her like a child. At times, it could be really nice and comforting, but other times, such as now, when she really did not need it. Her mother-in-law never really liked the fact that she was a career woman, and that she wanted to actually _do _something with her time instead of being Ronald Weasley's baby factory.

"Just looking for my husband and Rose. Are they here?" She asked, while Mrs. Weasley brushed down her pencil skirt and blazer, making sure they had not been ruffled in the trip over here. It took nearly all of her willpower not to snap at the older woman, but Hermione let her have her little joys.

Mrs. Weasley blinked, straightening. "Ronnie? Of course he's here, why wouldn't he be?" She said as if it were a common occurrence, which it was, unfortunately. She smiled brightly. "He and the other boys are playing a game of Quidditch in the backyard."

"Good. This means I won't have to go searching for him." She said with a chuckle, but Mrs. Weasley did not laugh. Hermione sighed and made her way towards the Weasley's back door.

Mrs. Weasley followed like a hawk, hovering just around her. "You know dear, you really _should_ give Ronnie a break. He does work hard all day long."

"Mm…He does." She replied, but the words were hollow.

Following the War, Ron and Harry both applied to be Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just their status alone was enough to get them accepted for the position, but Harry wanted to do things the normal way, and he joined Hermione in sitting for their NEWTS. Not to be outdone, Ron sat for them as well, though he didn't score nearly as well as the two of them did. Harry excelled in his Defense against the Dark Arts Newt, but Ron only managed to barely scrape only two NEWTS of Acceptable standing. The Ministry offered him the position even with grades like that, but Ron declined. He said he didn't want to be anyone's _charity case_, and went to work for his brother George in his joke shop. Of course, Ron didn't do the _best_ job there either, but George was grateful for the help.

Entering into the Weasley's backyard, she could see the field where a makeshift quidditch pitch was set up. Looking up high into the air, she could see several dots the size of ants flying around in circles around the field. Over to her left was a large picnic table with several people sitting around it. It was piled high with food. She could see Neville, Luna, Arthur, Angelina, Lavender, Parvati, Seamus and his fiancé, Hannah Abbott sitting around it, laughing and conversing with each other.

When she neared the table, Seamus looked up. "Hermione, you made it!" Hermione grinned before looking at the table of food, and then back to her friend.

"I'm glad to be here," She said, a bit unsure of what exactly was going on. She turned to Angelina. "How's the baby doing?"

She leaned back and rubbed her growing stomach. "Fine, keep's trying to kick his or her way through my stomach though."

Lavender giggled. "We didn't think you'd come."

"What do you mean? Is there some party I'm missing?" She asked her friends. "Some holiday I've forgotten about?"

"Just a small gathering," Mrs. Weasley said in a huff. "It's not really important."

"Small?" Hermione asked, gesturing around the table. "Everyone's here! And they're all dressed up for the occasion to. I'd have come in a dress or something…" She said, feeling a bit self-conscious about her appearance.

Neville shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich before speaking. "Well, it'll be Harry's birthday in a few weeks, and with the kids going off to Hogwarts this year, Harry didn't want to make a fuss about it and add to the confusion."

"So we decided to have his birthday party early this year." Angelina continued, and then gave Hermione a nervous look. "You remember that conversation, don't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, I remember _talking _about it with Harry and everyone else, but I don't remember anyone setting a _date _for it. If I had known, I would have taken off from work."

_Why didn't I know about this? Harry's my best friend!_

"Well—," Neville started, giving her friends nervous looks. "We told Ron to owl you at work yesterday morning, that's when we bought the cake—because you know Harry the best, and you'd know what he'd want. And we told him to tell you about it when you got home, but we're guessing he didn't."

"No he did not." She said testily. When she got home from work, Ron did nothing but eat his dinner and then crawl into bed, the plate of crumbs right where he left it on the dining room table. She looked around angrily, eyes blazing in search of her husband. "_Where_. _Is. He_?"

Luna pointed up, speaking for the first time. "Up there, high above the clouds."

She looked up, and she could see that a few of those ant-sized people on broomsticks had red hair. "Seamus," she said through her teeth. "Scoot over a bit."

Without a word, Seamus moved over and Hermione climbed up onto the picnic table bench, using his and Neville's shoulders as support. Her mother-in-law moved closer frantically. "W-What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to shoot him out of the sky if that's what you're thinking." She looked back at her, startling the woman with her unintentional glare. She didn't mean to snap so harshly at her, but Ron had pushed her over the edge. "Although the thought _is_ promising."

"Hermione, he really _did _try to remember…" She said softly, but Hermione was well past listening by this point.

Lifting her wand up in the air and holding it to her throat, she said "_Sonorus." _Then, once she knew that Ron could definitely hear her, she said. "_Ronald Weasley! Some things need to be explained. If you don't come down here, then I will go up there and you _don't_ want that to happen." _Removing her wand, she cast _Quietus_, canceling out Sonorus and hopped down off the bench, while her family and friends stared at her in shock.

"You think he's really going to come down?" Angelina asked, giving her a skeptical look. "Ron can be as stubborn as you."

"I know," She said patiently, taking a seat on the other side of Luna, at the end of the table "But he will if he knows what's good for him."

Moments later, she felt an object hit her back. "_Mummy_!" she turned around and was met with the sight of her daughter. "I heard your voice so I came over here!"

6 year old Rose Weasley had inherited her father's bright red hair, but her mother's curls, and in the blowing wind, her hair whipped around her head like flames. Her blue eyes were bright as she saw her mother sitting there, and Hermione's anger quickly dissipated as she took in her daughter's smile.

"Hello Rose." She said, "Did you have a good day?"

"Kind of," She said, smiling. "At first it was me and Daddy, and it was really boring, but then we came to Grandmum's house and then I had lots of fun."

She nodded, patting down her daughters hair to try to catch some of the flyaway. She found that her daughter was covered in mud from head to toe. It was caked in her hair, and spots of mud and water spotted her shirt. "Where are your cousins?"

"Um..." Rose looked around, and then pointed a finger away from the Weasley house. "Down by the creek. Alice told us to look for freshwater plimpies, but we aren't finding any."

Hermione was about to open her mouth and tell her that there wasn't such a thing as a freshwater plimpie, but Luna said something first. "You'll find them, I just know it. Alice knows what she's doing. I taught her to look for them myself."

Alice was Luna and Neville's daughter. She inherited her mother's silver-blue eyes and her father's brown hair. She would be attending Hogwarts in the fall with several of the other Weasley children. Harry and Ginny's sons, George and Angelina's daughter Roxanne, and Bill and Fleur's daughter Victoire would all be going for their first year at Hogwarts, joining Teddy Lupin who would be going in to his second year. The remaining children, Rose, Lily, Fred and Neville and Luna's twin children Xeno and Pandora were all much too young to go, in between the ages of 5 and 10.

"Go and get everyone else, sweetie, it's almost time to cut Uncle Harry's cake." Angelina said quickly, looking at something out of the corner of her eye. Hermione saw it too. Ron, along with everyone else who had been playing Quidditch landed softly in the grass wearing a grin that could have outdone the Cheshire cat. She stiffened, her fury returning at the irritatingly _lazy _way he sauntered over to her.

"Okay!" Rose said, not noticing the change in her mother's attitude. Hermione stood up, ready to take on yet another challenge.

"Hey babe, glad to see you got my note," He said once he reached her. He planted a kiss on her lips that she did not intend to respond to. "What took you so long?" He asked when they separated.

She noticed Neville, Luna and Seamus inch ever so slightly away from her as though she were going to Avada Kedavra him right then and there. But she wouldn't. _Yet._

She stared him down. _"_I might have gotten here _earlier _if you actually _said_ that _today_ was Harry's birthday celebration."

"I _told_ you, didn't I?" Ron asked. He looked at the other occupants of the table. First at Seamus, and then Neville. "_Didn't _I? N-Neville, you were _there _when I sent the floo call, don't you remember? And S-Seamus you s-saw me send the owl, right?"

Neville shrugged. "Don't look at me, mate. I'm staying out of this one."

"Same here." Seamus grinned and looked the other way. "I've seen enough of these fights to last me a lifetime."

Seeing that he wasn't going to get any help from his friends, Ron turned back to Hermione. "I'm sorry… guess I sort of forgot to tell you, what with me being so busy and all."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We _live _in the same _house_, Ron. How hard would it have been to tell me in passing? In the hallway, before we went to bed, at dinner, in the kitchen?" Ron's face turned red with embarrassment. "And by the way, what did you _do _to my kitchen?"

Ron blinked, taken aback. "Oh, a-about that…" He stammered. "I meant to clean that up before you got home."

She narrowed her eyes. "_Did _you, now?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "R-Really I _did_! _Honest_! But I guess I just got caught up in the Quidditch game—But I love you, Hermione."

His apologies always went that way. _I'm sorry you tripped over my shoes—But I love you. I'm sorry I forgot to pick up Rose from the sitter's—But I love you. I'm sorry I'm such complete _idiot_. But I love you. _As far as she was concerned, that apology line of his was being overused and overdone.

"I know you love me, but I left _simple _instructions for a grilled cheese sandwich. How did you get strawberry jam all over the place?"

"You told me to let Rose be creative." He said sheepishly.

"So you let her _paint _with food?" Hermione exclaimed in disbelief. She eyed Ron with extreme irritation. "Even in the muggle world we have paint that _washes off_, and doesn't get on furniture. You mean to tell me that you couldn't perform a spell to protect all of the non-washable surfaces?"

"I didn't remember it— and I didn't feel like buying it!" He said, getting angry. He looked around once more. Everyone was staring at them in shock, and she could hear the voices of the children as they were coming up the ridge to the house. "Look, do we _have _to do this now?"

Hermione sighed, relenting. She didn't really want to fight with him in front of the children, especially Rose. But that was another time that she had agreed to postpone a conversation between the two of them, but unlike all of the other times, she would make sure that Ron didn't keep her waiting for too long. She was growing tired of his laziness, his evasions, and something was going to have to change.

Perhaps her new job offer was just the thing she needed.

"Hermione!" Ginny came over, broom in hand, all sweaty from playing Qudditch with the boys. George, Dean Thomas, Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan and Ernie MacMillan followed right behind.

"How was the game, guys?" Hermione asked.

"Alright, I suppose." George said, "Though it would have been better if we had some more players." He said, giving pointed stares to Neville and Seamus.

"Don't you dare look at me, George Weasley." Angelina said, pointing to her rounded stomach. "It's your fault I can't play anyway."

"Sorry, love." George smirked at his wife, blushing. "Actually…I'm not sorry in the least."

"You know me, I'm rotten at Quidditch." Neville said, "I'd be the worst."

"We know that." George snickered. "That's why you would have been on Harry's team. He always wins."

"I don't' _always _win." Harry said from behind her. She turned and he smiled when he saw her. He lifted her up into the air, swinging her around. When he set her down, he was smiling. "It feels like ages since I've last seen you, and it's weird since we only work 2 floors apart from each other."

"I know Harry, and happy early birthday." She said, smiling at her best friend.

"I didn't think you were going to make it, when I asked where you were, Ron said you were being a workaholic as usual."

She cut a glare at Ron who visibly blanched before turning back to Harry. She chuckled, "Well you know me, and I do _love _working."

The sound of chattering children halted their conversation. A group of children raced up the incline to The Burrow, each carrying a small bucket in their hands. First was Teddy, James and Roxanne, who were the most muddy. Roxanne's black hair flew behind her as she tried to overtake Teddy and James. The next bunch up the incline were Alice and Albus. The two were nearly inseparable and several jokes had been made (mostly by George), that the Potters and Longbottoms would be in-laws in the future. After them came Rose, Lily and Pandora who were all the same age and Xeno(philius) and Fred brought up the rear. It was strange to see them all getting along, but they were family, and no matter what you always loved your family.

The children found their parents and excitedly showed them the shells and flowers they had caught and put inside each bucket. Rose left her friends and bounded over to her father. "Daddy, Daddy, _look_!" She said, holding up the bucket. "Look what I found! 3 shells and two purple flowers!"

"That's nice, baby girl." Ron said, waving her away as he collapsed on the bench next to Hermione. She inched away from him. Rose turned away from her father with a frown.

"Mummy, what's wrong with Daddy?" She said sadly. "He didn't want to see all the pretty shells I found."

"Daddy's not feeling too well," Hermione said carefully. "But Mummy will _love _to see them."

Rose grinned and sat on her lap, staining Hermione's suit with mud and excitedly showed her the shells, pointing out what she liked and did not like about each one, and carefully picking up the flowers. Hermione listened with rapt attention, focusing on her child and solely her child. It is what a parent had to do, something that Ron had yet to figure out.

Once they cut Harry's cake and given him gifts, Hermione thought it best to make her announcement. "Um…everyone?" She said, standing up. They all turned to her with rapt attention. "I have an announcement to make."

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, spoon paused in the air still with cake on it.

"I've been offered a teaching position." She told them after taking a deep breath. "At Hogwarts."

"That's _amazing, _Hermione!" Ginny said, standing up and hugging her.

"Wait, so now Aunt Hermione is going to be my _professor_?" Teddy asked, eyes wide. He looked at Hermione. "You're going to go easy on me right?"

She laughed. "Of course not, you know me by now."

"Great, she's going to be the next McGonagall." George snickered. "She'll be even _bossier_ than she is now."

"No she won't George; she'll be _perfect _at it." Harry said. Then after a moments, pause, she said. "I'll be covering her classes actually. I'm the new Transfiguration professor."

"Excellent." Ron said sarcastically, raising his wand in the air. His voice held a touch of bitterness. "I can see it now. Levi-_o_-sa, not Levio-_sa_."

_Come on, Ron. Don't ruin a moment for me._

She shook her head with a grimace. "That's _Charms_, Ron. I should think that I wouldn't have to tell _you_ the difference."

"I-I knew that!" He said roughly, stuffing his wand back into his pocket.

"Well…" Seamus said awkwardly, holding up a glass of wine, and the children were given water. "Happy Birthday to Harry, and Congrats to Hermione."

"Congrats!" Everyone echoed and took a drink.

But amidst all of the congratulations, there were two people who weren't happy at all. And they had to do _something _to stop this from happening.

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**Okay, so that was chapter two! Thank you for reading, and if you could just leave a review, even 2 words about what you think, I would really appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you again for the positive response to the last chapter! I really like where this story is headed, even if I am not exactly sure what that is yet. I am sorry for the slow start, but for some reason, my stories start out slow and short, and get longer as time goes on.**

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"I don't get why you can't let me clean it with _magic_." Ron complained as he hunched over the floor, cleaning up the mixture of jam, cheese and candy off the kitchen tiles. As soon as they had left The Burrow, a sleepy Rose in tow, Hermione thrust a rag in Ron's face and told him to fix what he had done.

She stood over him, eyes like a hawk, arms folded in what she was sure was a perfect imitation of Professor McGonagall. What she wanted to say was, _I don't trust__** you**__ to cast Scourgify properly, but she didn't say that. _Instead she said, "Scourgify can damage furniture sometimes, Ron. You know that. And I really don't have the energy to enchant the pots and pans to wash themselves tonight."

He set the rag down and sat back on his heels, giving her a dirty look. "Why should you be so tired?" He said. "You just sit in an office and sign papers all day. Do you know what George has me doing in his shop? I lift boxes all day, Hermione, and if anyone deserves to be tired, it's me." He stood up, leaving the rag discarded on the floor.

She grimaced. She did not like fighting with Ron, common as it was. After the war, everyone had startled to settle down and she did not want to be an exception to the rule. After all, she had known Ron for most of her life, and they were practically living together while on the run, so what was the matter if they shared a few extra square feet and lived in a house, not a tent.

But friendship didn't translate to marriage quite as easily as she had once thought.

She really should have expected it, after all, without Harry around, there was no buffer between them when they started to argue, and their fights lasted for days and sometimes months on end. It was like a vicious cycle, he'd do something to make her angry, she'd call him out on it, his temper would flare, they'd shout, he'd leave, she would call him back and apologize, and then they'd make up and all of the trim and trappings that went with it. It never ended, because they had been fighting for as long as they had known each other. Hermione was going to divorce him one night when he said that he forbid her from working in the Ministry, but the morning she wanted to see a lawyer about the divorce papers…she found out she was pregnant.

She didn't want to raise her child in a broken home, having him or her go back and forth between his house, and hers. Besides, Ron could be terribly romantic when he wanted to be, and it really was too bad that he couldn't be romantic all of the time. When he messed up badly, really messed up so that she'd warded the floo against him, he'd find some way back in. He'd give her a candlelit dinner, they'd go dancing, and he'd sweet-talk her like he'd been doing since the day they met.

Did she love him?

The answer was simple and yet complicated at the same time. Yes, she loved him. At least, when he wasn't making a total arse of himself. And the answer was no when he _did_ actually make an arse of himself.

"...And it shouldn't even matter how it gets clean," Ron was saying, shrugging. "At least it's clean in the first place."

"You are _not_ destroying _my_ kitchen just so you can have the easy way out, Ron." She said, snapping back to attention. She bent down, picked up the rag on the floor, and shoved it into Ron's hands. "You would have been almost halfway done if you weren't complaining for 10 minutes straight."

He ignored her statement and continued on, throwing the rag on the still cluttered table. "Or better yet, why don't _you_ do it? Since you don't trust me all that much."

She unbuttoned her blazer, her rising anger making her feel uncomfortably hot. Pointing a finger at him, she snapped, "Because, this is _your _mess Ron, and I'm _not_ going to turn into your mother and clean up _everything_ for you so you don't have to _dirty_ your hands!"

"_Don't_ talk about my mother that way!" He screamed at her. His face was red and his eyes were angry. She had never seen him so upset before.

"Why not?" Hermione said coldly, "That's who you expect me to be, it seems."

"Whatever." He said heatedly, pushing past her. She lost her balance and fell onto the table. Ron didn't even notice as he continued to scream from the living room. "Why do you have to make a big deal out everything?"

"Ron _look_ at my _kitchen!_" She followed him into the living room. He sat on the couch and cracked open a beer.

"_That's_ your bloody problem." He hissed, downing half of the alcohol in one swig from the can. "Everything around the house is _yours_, _yours, and yours_! You take over the bathroom, you won't let me in the kitchen, all I've done for the past 10 years is try and get around this picture perfect life you've made for yourself!"

Hermione could feel the tears stinging her eyes as she continued to defend herself to Ron. She did not know why he was arguing with him this much. Usually they had their little tiffs, but nothing on this scale. Why was he affecting her this much? Perhaps it was the Hogwarts letter she felt burning in her pocket. That letter offered her a new career path, a new life, and perhaps the agonies of her past…like Ron…had to change…or risk being left behind.

"My life has been anything but _perfect_, Ron." She said, a few tears escaping and running down her face, leaving streaks on her rosy cheeks. "I was the muggleborn remember?"

"_Merlin, _Hermione!" Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Do you have a stick up your arse all of the time? Why can't you be more like _Lavender_? She was _almost killed _by Greyback, and you don't see _her _being so…so _controlling _about everything."

_He wants me to be more like Lavender of all people? That brainless little ninny? How could you compare your _wife _to another woman, Ron?_

"In case you _forgot _Ron, I can't forget _my _pain. Or _don't _you remember me getting tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in Malfoy Manor?" She stepped to him, his large size dwarfing her petite frame. He shook with rage and anger, she looked at his arms, his biceps rippled, and his hands were balled into fists. In the pit of her stomach, Hermione began to get nervous. If he wanted to, he could knock her out.

"Hermione, I was—," He tried to say, but she cut him off.

"You don't _know _the pain of the Cruciatus curse. You will _never _understand that pain." She said more harshly than she intended, but the words were out and she could not take them back. She rolled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal her _MUDBLOOD _scar. As she looked at it, she remembered Bellatrix's cold eyes filled with hatred for her, simply because of something she could not control. "I'm reminded of my pain _every day_, Ron. I look in the mirror and try to forget but I _can't_. You don't know how to relate to me, Ron and I'm tired of it. I don't want to do it anymore!"

"Mummy?" Hermione turned to reveal Rose, standing at the entrance to the hallway, one hand clutching her stuffed owl, Crookshanks sitting at her feet, almost as tall as her. The bright orange half-kneazle watched her intelligently, seeming to read the conversation between the two of them. Rose yawned, and rubbed her eye sleepily. "Are you and Daddy fighting again?"

_Again? _Hermione asked. _Rose knew we were fighting. Of course, we probably woke up Neville and Luna with our shouting._

Hermione tried to pacify their daughter and calm the situation down. Moving past Ron, she crouched down in front of her six-year-old daughter. The look of nervousness on Rose's face made her heart almost break in two. She patted her daughter's head softly. "No sweetheart, we weren't fighting. Mummy and Daddy were just…discussing something."

"Yeah, like that stick up your arse." Ron muttered under his breath. Rose's breath hitched and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Mummy! Daddy said a _bad _word!" Rose gasped, clutching onto Crookshanks' fur. The cat hissed, but not at her. Rather, it hissed at Ron. Ron gave crook shanks a nasty glare and the cat recoiled, standing in front of Rose protectively.

"Damn cat." Ron sat on the couch again, and Hermione shot him a look.

Turning back to her daughter, she said. "Why don't you go back to bed, and take Crookshanks with you? He can sleep in your room tonight. Mummy will come to tuck you in soon, all right?" Rose nodded and skipped back down the hallway, leading to her bedroom, Crookshanks in her wake. Turning back to her husband, she snapped. "You know I don't like you using that language around her."

"It's not like you're some saint either Hermione." He scoffed, finishing the last of his beer. "I've heard you say words that would cause your mother to feel faint."

She blushed in fury. "At least I have the decency to keep my mouth clean when my _six-year old_ child is in the room."

"She'll learn those words eventually, so I don't know why you're even bringing it up." He threw the empty can onto the floor and cast her a scathing glance. Taking his wand out, he cast it in a circle, including the part of the kitchen that was visible through the doorway. "Look, Hermione. How simple this is. _Scourgify_."

Then everything was clean. The Beer can was gone from the floor, and the part of the kitchen that she could see was visibly cleaner. Seconds later, she heard a large crash coming from the kitchen, like the sound of boulders falling down a mountainside.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione cursed herself for being so stubborn. She could have just scourgified it herself, but Ron wouldn't learn a lesson that way, and she just had to teach him a lesson. Then again, when would he _ever _learn? He was as bad as the eleven-year-old boy she had always known

Walking into the kitchen, she could see that her suspicions were correct. Everywhere that had food on it, had some kind of damage. There were cracks in the cabinets and dents in the counters from where the spell had hit it too hard. The table was cut nearly in half; one of its legs lay by the trash bin, splintered. The doors to her cabinets hung off their hinges and all of her muggle appliances, the refrigerator, the coffee maker, the electric stove, were covered in a thick layer of rust. There would be no salvaging it, _any _of it.

"Ron, what did you _do_? Everything is ruined!" She moaned. Why couldn't Ron just do things she asked of him, asshe asked for once instead of trying the easy way out?

Ron came into the kitchen behind her. He turned red, and scratched his head, staring at the chaos. "Whoops…Sorry 'Mione." He chuckled, giving her the grin he usually used when he messed up. "Guess I don't know my own strength, huh?"

She glared at him, more irritated than she had ever been. Between cursing in front of Rose, the mess in the kitchen, and now _this_, Hermione had been through enough in the past 10 hours. "Out." She told him forcibly.

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Get out." She told him again, her voice firmer this time. "I want you out of here, within the next 20 seconds or so help me Ronald Weasley—,"

"Hey…" Ron said, wrapping his arms around her waist, still wearing that _infuriating _smile. Her anger only grew "You don't really mean that babe,"

"Like hell I don't!" She hissed, struggling in his arms. He let go of her in surprise, stepping away from him. She pulled her wand out. "Get out, Ron or so help me I'll hex you to Durmstrang and back. I don't care where you go, or what you do, but you are _not_ staying here another minute. You can come get your stuff in the morning."

She didn't know if Ron's brain was having difficulty processing this information, or if he didn't think she was serious, but she wasn't playing around this time. They had been married for 10 long years, and she couldn't think of the person that she'd hate to see more than Ron right now.

"You'll need me back, Hermione." Ron said, pushing past her. She followed him to make sure that he actually went to the floo, and it was a good thing she did. Because he wasn't going to the fireplace, he was making his way to Rose's bedroom.

"Don't you dare go in there." She said sternly.

His hand froze on the doorknob. "Why the hell not? I can't say goodnight to my own daughter?"

"I don't want you in there with her. Not tonight." Hermione rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Now go."

Ron's shoulders dropped, and he let out a heavy sigh. Stepping past her to the Floo, he called out the name of his parent's house before disappearing in a cloud of green flame.

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding before making her way to Rose's room.

_Now that he's gone..._she thought to herself, _Why do I feel so_ **free**?

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**I am sorry this is so short, but if you guys have read my other story The Palace, then you know that I was in a car accident a few weeks ago and have been on bed rest because of my injuries. The pain meds aren't really helping with my concentration either. I promise, that the next chapter will be 3x as long. **

**Thank you!**

**Oh and please leave me a review letting me know if Ron was too OOC for you guys. I'm sorry if he was, it's just that my Ron and Hermione remind me of my parents when I was growing up, and I based Ron off of my dad.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I really hope you guys like this chapter. I know it's late and I'm sorry. But I had horrible writer's block when I was mapping this story out. I could figure out what I wanted to say, but I didn't know how to say it. But, inspiration comes from the strangest places. For me, it was the produce section at the supermarket.**

**But I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I appreciate everyone that reviewed or favorited or followed this story. Thank you so much!**

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Although she felt free, Hermione cried herself to sleep that night, and she didn't sleep very well throughout the night.

Because of her typically overactive brain, Hermione woke up much earlier than normal. Her eyes popped open when the night was still pitch black, not even a speck of sunrise on the horizon. After several failed attempts to return to sleep, Hermione resolved to get up, her thoughts still plaguing her mind. Ron was Rose's father, but she had Hermione's brain, and her little girl was going to notice when her father did not show up for breakfast.

Not wanting to have the discussion with her daughter, she got dressed slowly, hoping to pass the time until the sun rose, postponing the inevitable questions. She finished getting ready much earlier than she'd hoped, that included brushing her hair into a high ponytail, with several strands of hair framing her face (thank goodness for sleak-easy's). She put on a ridiculously light about of make-up, strictly mascara and lip gloss (she refused to apply any more without looking like a tart or worse-Lavender). And poured a mug of very strong black coffee for herself (she would need the caffeine).

When she entered her kitchen, still in disarray, nearly all of the anger she felt last night returned to her in a wave. How could he have destroyed her kitchen magical repair? And then had gotten upset with her for calling him out on it? Utter nonsense.

Even so, a nagging feeling in her gut told her that she was being ridiculous, and that Ron did not deserve the harsh treatment that she gave to him. He was still one of her best friends.

Looking out of her window, between the lilac curtains, she could see the distinct pink and yellow rays of the sun across the purple sky. Hermione decided that it wasn't so painfully early anymore, at least by everyone else's standards and decided to get a second opinion by way of Luna Lovegood.

She could hardly go to any other one of her friends. They either were a Weasley themselves, or related to a Weasley through marriage. She would hate to make her friends choose between Ron and her.

Calling Luna through the Floo Network, she was more than a little relieved to see the blond girl's head through the smoke and flame. Despite the early hour of the morning, Luna's eyes were bright and she didn't show any signs of weariness.

"Hermione." Luna said dreamily. "I was expecting your call."

Hermione blinked, startled. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Smiling, the blonde woman shook her head. "No, No. I was awake anyway." She sighed. "I was writing an article for the quibbler about a recent sighting I had of a blibbering humdinger, but the words won't come."

Luna organized the Quibbler after her father's death from the Killing Curse when Death Eaters attacked their home during the War. Hermione blamed herself, because if they hadn't gone to the Lovegood home then Xenophilius would not have died. Then again, if they hadn't gone there, they wouldn't have found out about the Deathly Hallows and long ago, Luna had assured her that it was more than justified. Saving the Wizarding World was more important, and Luna felt that her father would have agreed with her.

Luna had expanded the Quibbler into a full sized operation, competing heavily with the Daily Prophet for readers and subscribers. The Prophet was still first, but the Quibbler came in a very close second. It seemed that during the war, when Xenophilius Lovegood advocated for Harry, people realized that the Daily Prophet wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. However, that number was small and growing every day.

Hermione had no idea what exactly a Blibbering Humdinger was, but she just nodded anyway. "I'm sure it will come to you." She grimaced then, unsure how to proceed with her still raw topic. "I wanted to talk to you about—,"

"You kicked Ron out." Luna said as a statement more than a question. "And you want a second opinion."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Sometimes she forgot how Luna just knew things. Luna could sometimes predict emotions that others felt or ideas they would have before they even considered a topic themselves. It was freaky sometimes, the amount of times that Luna predicted something accurately.

"How did you—," Hermione said at first, but then resigned herself to admitting that Luna's otherworldly knowledge was not restrictive. "Yes. I did. And I feel awful about it."

Despite feeling better with an angry Ron out of the house, she could not help the sick, guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach at what she had done. She had never kicked him out before, threatened it definitely, dreamed about it for sure, but had never acted on her feelings. Was it right for her to remove the father of her child from the house that was supposed to be a warm and loving environment?

"Are you sure that you feel as awful as you think?" Luna asked her, her faraway gaze hardening. "Because I don't think so."

"What are you talking about, Luna? I don't understand."

Luna's smile remained on her face. "It would be easier if I could just tell you in person. Why don't you come on over? Bring Rose. I'm about to start making breakfast for the kids."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. She looked back into the hallway at her daughter's closed bedroom door. Turning back to Luna, she said, "I don't know, we got in pretty late last night. I'd rather let her sleep."

This did not seem to impede Luna in the slightest. "She can sleep in Alice's bedroom, her bed's large enough. And Pandora would love to see her best friend so early in the morning."

Considering this, Hermione nodded. "I'll be right over."

"Okay," Luna nodded. Her eyes seemed to get further and further away. I'll leave the floo open for you."

Ending the Floo Call, Hermione stood and walked over to the rack that held coats and jackets. Reaching the top, she grabbed a worn leather shoulder bag and made her way to Rose's room. It was her old school bag, which now served as her daughter's travelling bag. Entering Rose's room, she filled it with things her daughter might need. An extra changes of clothes, her coloring book, various snacks just in case she didn't like Luna's cooking.

Feeling confident that she'd packed enough, (a little too much, Harry would say), she turned to Rose's bed and smiled at what she found. There were two large lumps underneath the covers of Rose's bed. Peeking out from underneath were two tufts of curly red-orange hair, identical in every way. A pale foot stuck out from under the bed as Hermione identified the lump closest to her as her daughter, leaving the other lump to only be Crookshanks.

The half-kneazle was fiercely protective of Rose, always by her side nearly every second she was at home, and assisting the little girl whenever she needed it. As Ron started to get harder and harder to control, especially when drinking, Hermione had begun to fear that he'd eventually turn his drunken rage on Rose, who seemed to get less and less of his attention as days went by. But Crookshanks would always be there as Ron got out of control, either standing in front of Rose protectively or ushering her out of the room. Ron never turned violent with his anger when he and Hermione fought, but he would become very loud, and the language he used was not something she wanted her daughter to pick up.

Walking over to her daughter's bedside, she pulled back the covers to reveal her sleeping daughter and an orange cat. Hermione picked up her daughter with minor difficulty. She hadn't had the need to exercise in a very long time, and her baby girl wasn't as small as she once had been. When Crookshanks felt the bed shift, he raised his head lethargically and stared at Hermione.

"Yes I'm taking Rose, Go back to sleep Crookshanks." She said to him, and Crookshanks gave her a curious look. "No Ron isn't home." Crookshanks' dislike of Ron had not dissipated with time. And ever since Rose was born, the animosity between her familiar and her husband only grew worse.

Crookshanks, though, appeared to get the message and went back to sleep, after giving Hermione an annoyed sniff. She shook her head at her cat before noticing that Rose was awake, and looking at her with droopy eyes. "Hi, mummy."

"Morning, sweetheart." Hermione said. "How would you like to visit Aunt Luna and Uncle Neville?"

Rose smiled and nodded before resting her tired head on her mother's shoulders. Her wand in her pocket, bag on one shoulder, and Rose in the other, Hermione stepped into the Floo before calling out Luna Lovegood's name.

Appearing in the floo of the Lovegood-Longbottom home, Hermione saw that it was in as much disarray as it always was. The kitchen was re-built, actually, the entire house was re-built and Luna had enlisted the help of her husband and children to paint it as brightly as it was before. Yellow and green flowers decorated the blue cabinets and red, purple and orange swirls covered everything from the refrigerator, to the stove, to the archway of the kitchen of itself. The window curtains were in a pure white fabric with blue and orange flowers on them. They moved in the breeze as if they were alive. A drawn butterfly flit from curtain to curtain, pollinating the painted flowers as though they were real.

Luna was standing by the stove, wearing an orange summer dress with a frilly pink apron stirring a pot of something. The smell drifted to Hermione's nose, and smelled like a combination of peppers, corn and potatoes; though she was sure that wasn't what it contained. Luna was known around her friends as an…_unconventional _cook.

Hearing the Floo activate, Luna turned in Hermione's general direction. "Hermione! Come on in!" Luna moved away from the stove, the pot still stirring itself even though Luna was halfway across the room. Taking the bag from Hermione's shoulder, she looked at the still sleeping Rose and said, "I conjured a bed in Xeno's room. There isn't enough space in Alice and Pan's room yet, and Augusta is downstairs… I don't think she would take it very kindly if she were woken up at this hour."

Luna was referring to one of the many additions to the Lovegood home that came to be within the past 10 years. To Hermione, the house always seemed to be growing on the inside, up and up, and the spiral staircase going between each level seemed to go on forever. On the first floor, was the kitchen, living room and dining room. The second held Xenophilius' bedroom, as well as the bedroom Alice and Pandora shared, the top floor held Luna and Neville's master bedroom with a skylight so that Luna could look at the stars whenever she wished. Down below, Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother resided. At first, the hard old witch wasn't happy when she found out that Neville planned to marry the "barmy" daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, but once she got to know Luna, she was as charmed by her as everyone else was.

Hermione carried Rose up the stairs to Xeno's room. He was the same age as his best friend Fred II, and at seven years old was more than enough for Luna and Neville to handle. Pandora was a year younger than Xeno and the same age as Rose. The three often found themselves playing together along with Fred whenever Rose was around because at age 11, Alice was more content to be around Albus, Roxanne, Victoire, Teddy and James.

A cot with a blue blanket over it was in the room next to Xeno's bed, closer to the door. Xeno's room was covered in posters of England's top quidditch teams. The Chudley Cannons, Puddlemere United, and the Holyhead Harpies just to name a few. He even had a poster of Ginny Weasley in her old uniform before she retired. Hermione set Rose down on the small cot, and covered her with the blanket. As she took in the peaceful expression on her daughter's face, she could only think that she never wanted to see her daughter sad. Ever.

When she went back downstairs, she found that Luna was again standing by the stove, sprinkling green and orange powder into the pot that still stirred itself. "Anything that I can help you with?" She asked.

Luna turned and shook her head. "No, I'm quite alright."

"Alright." She said and sat down at the table, looking at the room as a whole. The furniture was mismatched, both in color and in design, but there was a surprising order to the chaos that Hermione wouldn't have expected from Luna Longbottom née Lovegood. Above the fireplace, surrounded by artwork of nargles and Crumple-horned Snorkack was Neville's Certification as a Professor of Herbology. Turning to Luna with her eyes still on the certificate, she asked. "Is Neville teaching this year?"

"Neville?" Luna asked dreamily. "Of course. He's so excited to see Alice get sorted first-hand. Not many parents get to do that, you know."

"Will he stay at the castle then? Or will he be coming back here?" Hermione asked. Sinceshe was going to be a professor at Hogwarts now, she had better learn the tips and tricks of what to do, and what _not _to do.

Luna turned off the stove, and turned to face her with a thoughtful expression. "Sometimes he stays at the castle. During Midterm and Final exams…He's required to be there a few nights a week considering that he's Head of Hufflepuff and a student may need him." Luna's eyes went wide. "Would you like some Dirigible tea? Made from our own Dirigible plums of course."

Hermione shrugged. "Do you have any coffee? Instead of tea?" She asked. "I didn't sleep much last night."

Luna pointed to what must be dark circles under her eyes. "I can tell. But you don't want coffee. That stuff's just no good for you, Hermione." She set about making some tea. "Dirigible tea is just as good, and is healthier for you.

"Alright. If you say so, Luna." Hermione said cautiously as Luna made the tea with a flick of her wand. It was ready in an instant and Luna levitated the two cups over, steaming hot.

Hermione hesitantly picked up a cup and sipped it, whispering a cooling charm under her breath. She had long since mastered wandless magic, although her power was more concentrated when she actually _did _use her wand. Dirigible tea tasted no sweeter than an apple, but had more of the zest of orange. It was tart as well, yet at the same time overwhelmingly bland. A mixture of flavors unlike anything that Hermione had ever tasted before.

"So, I know you want to talk about Ron." Luna said, smiling at her friend. "But why exactly have you come to me? Why not go to Ginny, you are closer with her?"

For a moment, Hermione felt bad about the way she treated Luna in school. Of course, the girl was eccentric, but then again it was a _magical _school. Nothing about it made sense, as much as people tried. But the guilty feeling was only there for a moment, before it went away, because there was nothing malicious in Luna's eyes.

"I can't go to anyone else. All of my closest friends are either a Weasley, or married to a Weasley and I just can't make anyone choose between Ron and I." Hermione took another sip.

"Hm..." Luna said, leaning forward. Looking at Hermione with her steel-blue gaze over the rim of her teacup, she said knowingly. "You talk about it as if you were separated."

Hermione thought about it. "Well…" She blushed. "Technically, I suppose, we _are _sepa—,"

"No, no, I meant…as if you were _permanently_ separated."

Hermione's mouth fell open so wide she swore her bottom lip touched her shoes. What could she say to that? Permanently separated? As in, divorced? As in, no longer married? At all? What was she _supposed _to say?

Fortunately, she was spared from answering, because at that moment, Neville decided to walk downstairs. She had never liked Neville more than that moment. He was wearing a gray flannel shirt with dark blue muggle jeans. Luna was closest to the stairs, so he saw her first.

"Morning, love." He said, kissing her on the cheek. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy go through her chest. Ron had never done that. Not even in all of the years they'd been married.

"Good morning." Luna smiled dreamily, pulling Neville in for a quick kiss on the lips.

When Neville looked up, he saw Hermione sitting across from his wife and immediately turned as red as a tomato. "Hermione! When'd you get here? I never heard the floo."

"That's because you sleep like the dead, darling." Luna giggled. Sobering, she turned to her husband. "Come, sit. Hermione has a problem, and I think you may help her more than I."

Hermione didn't really see how this was possible, seeing how Neville wasn't a woman, and therefore wouldn't understand her pain fully, but Luna just somehow _knew _things, and Hermione had to trust that knowledge.

"All right." Neville said, grabbing a chair and sitting in it next to his wife. Hermione noticed how both of their hands rested on the table, only centimeters apart, as though one of them could reach out and stroke the other one's hand at any moment. Again, she felt another jealous hit. He looked at her with bright brown eyes. "How can I help, Hermione?"

"I'mthinkingofleavingRon." She said all in one breath. Neville blinked at her.

"Technically, she already did." Luna pointed out, smiling wistfully.

"Well…" Neville coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. "What brought this on, exactly? I thought you guys were happy?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. We were happy—at least I _thought, _we were. But yesterday I realized that I'm tired of cleaning up after his messes. I've been doing it since I was eleven, and I don't want to do it anymore." She looked up at her friends. "Am I wrong?"

"No…" Neville told her. " I suppose there's only one more question to ask: Do you love him?"

"Of course I do, he's one of my best friends." The response came to her lips almost immediately. She had been telling herself this for so long, the response became almost immediate.

"No, I don't mean like that." Neville started, but Luna cut him off.

"Do you love him as a husband? The way that I love Neville." Said husband covered his wife's hand with his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Luna responded with a hopelessly adoring look that made Hermione surprisingly envious. Ron never did anything like that with her.

And it was then she realized. Ron _never _did it. _Ever_.

"No…" She said, feeling a bit giddy to say the words out loud. She let out a laugh. "I don't love him that way! I _don't _love Ronald Weasley!" She continued to laugh while giggling to herself that she did not, in fact, love Ronald Weasley.

It was a slightly terrifying thought. Did all of those years mean nothing but a lie? A false hope that things might be better. No, of course not. They were only a reflection of the life that she _thought _she was supposed to have, not destined to have. She remembered the weight of the Hogwarts letter in her hand. _That _was what she was supposed to become. Not Ronald Weasley's broodmare, and certainly not someone who put her own happiness on hold for someone else.

"I think she's gone mad!" Neville gasped, turning to his wife.

"Nonsense dear." Luna patted her husband on the cheek. "I think that Hermione Granger has just realized that she is just as sane as I am."

What Hermione felt was true, of course. She trusted knowledge, but she also trusted her instincts. And what they were telling her was that Ronald Weasley was a complete git and she needed to fix what had gone wrong. When they got married, it was a month after the war and _everyone _was doing it. Everyone felt so caught up in the moment that getting married seemed like the natural thing to do. George and Angelina, Harry and Ginny, even Neville and Luna got married and had a baby.

Fleur was already pregnant with Victoire by the time she and Ron said, "I do." She could hardly marry anyone else other than Ron. Maybe if Victor Krum had proposed to her, she would have said yes. But he didn't, so she said yes to Ron, instead. She didn't love him, and yet, there were so many consequences for this epiphany. The largest and most important consequence was two floors above, sound asleep.

She would never do anything to hurt her daughter, and that included having her wait for her dad to pay attention to her, or treat her as Harry treated his kids. She didn't see it happening any time in the future, so why force Rose to wait until he did?

Hermione Granger always had a plan. And it was a plan that would change her entire life that came to her head now.

"Neville…" She directed her attention to her friend, trying to calm herself. "When you needed legal help, where did you go?"

His eyes squinted as he tried to recall what happened six years ago. When Neville first applied to get his certificate to teach at Hogwarts once Pomona Sprout retired, the Ministry tried to take it away from him due to the fact that he had not finished a proper education. But with the help of an amazing lawyer, Neville was able to prove that what he'd learned during the war, how to make Healing Salves with plants he'd nicked from the Green House, forays into the forbidden forest to find the best medicines unavailable to the students at Hogwarts, Neville had more practical experience than any other applicants.

"Bini and Foy, I think. The lawyer they set me up with was nice, Hermione. If you want, I can give her a call."

"No thanks, Neville." She said, shaking her head. "I want to do this on my own." She had to do it on her own. Hermione stood, and looked at both of her friends. Bwnding over, she kissed Neville on the cheek. "Thank you Neville, I owe you."

"Glad I could help, Hermione." Neville said as he watched the woman bounce on the ball's of her feet. He turned to Luna. "What exactly did I do?"

"Don't worry about it, dear." Luna advised.

"Will you watch Rose for me?" Hermione asked as she moved away from them towards the floo.

"Of course." Neville said without hesitation. "But what exactly are you planning?"

"I don't want to say it out loud," Hermione said. "For fear that may never go through with it if I do."

* * *

Blaise Zabini rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the pain bubbling in his brain. Not even 9:00 and he could already feel the makings of a migraine coming on. He threw the file he was holding in the pile with the other useless ones, and let out a groan of frustration before his head fell into his hands. Why was he cursed to be surrounded by complete imbeciles? He glared at the last case file he had just gone through, laughing to himself at the ridiculousness of it all.

A woman was suing her tailor because the custom dress she ordered only had 900 rhinestones on it instead of the 950 that she had ordered. They had tried to get the woman to agree to a settlement, but the stubborn woman refused to compromise, and expected the dress for free. The case has been going on for 3 weeks with no sign of a deal. Blaise could barely keep alert during the depositions, and felt like a fool during court when trying to explain his client's case to a ministry official judging the case.

This wasn't exactly what he wanted when he left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to work for Draco's private firm. He wanted the job of an Auror, without the occasional occupational hazards that came with the territory.

He thought he would be solving big cases, handling top clients and making big money. What he got instead was gem-studded dresses and demanding, pureblood clients who thought that because of their blood status, all disagreements they seemed to have with one another were of national concern.

He was going to have to talk to Draco about this, though he was not anticipating that discussion in the least.

Rising, he walked over to his door, and poked his head out into the atrium of the building. Leaving his office, Blaise approached the circular desk with four receptionists around a marble column. He approached the receptionist closest to his office. She also happened to be his favorite person in the building. With long red-brown hair that changed color depending on which way she looked at you and assets that turned every single head in the office building, how could he not like her that much? He had flirted with the idea of shagging her a time or two, but then there was Draco's damn rule about "fraternizing within the office" And he did not think that Draco would make an exception for anyone, not even his son's Godfather.

When he approached, the woman looked up and smiled. She was wearing a low cut button down shirt and a very short pencil skirt. She giggled, leaning back in her chair so Blaise could see her body and her very suggestive clothing "Good Morning, Mr. Zabini."

"Lisa," Blaise said, appreciating the view. "Is Draco in yet?"

She nodded, giggling once more. "He just arrived. Would you like me to send him a message?" She asked, closer leaning forward, giving him an ample view of her chest. And as much as he'd much rather stay and talk to her, speaking with Draco was more important.

"No, thank you. I'll go speak to him myself." Blaise said, starting to walk to Draco's office door.

"Oh, Mr. Zabini," Lisa called him back. He turned around. She cupped her hand around her mouth, whispering, "I'd be careful...he's in one of his moods again."

Draco Malfoy was not exactly a morning person. Far from it as a matter of fact. He sipped at his coffee leisurely at his desk, in no hurry whatsoever to get started with the day, and in no mood to deal with the ridiculous amount of paperwork on his desk. The morning sun shone brightly through the large window at his side. He cursed the Sun, and every chipper, happy-go-lucky person that was actually _awake_ at this god-awful hour.

As long as no one came to bother him until at _least _10:00, he'd be quite alright.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, someone _had_ to knock on his door. "Come in." He said, gritting his teeth.

In walked Blaise Zabini, his business partner, as if he didn't know that Draco hated to see _anyone _in the mornings. "Malfoy we need to talk." He said, ignoring the glare Draco sent his way.

"About what?" Draco forced himself to _not _yell at his son's Godfather. Of course he knew about what. Blaise had been coming to see him to discuss the same topic every single day for the past week.

"Our firm has nothing. We _are_ nothing." Blaise said bluntly. "We're losing every respectable case to lawyers from the Ministry. They get the million galleon cases, and I'm stuck with rhinestones."

"You think I don't know that?" Draco forced out. "No one wants to have two pure-blood sympathizers represent them in court. And they definitely don't want to have _my _name attached to the list." Former Death Eater as he was, although technically he'd never received the Dark Mark…but still, he carried his Father's sins with him, even to this day.

Following the War, Draco had tried to do his best to restore the Malfoy name to glory, but so far, no such luck. People just were not willing to forget the past and everything that he, and his family had done. It was likely that they still blamed him for Dumbledore's death. And no matter how many times he had tried to explain that it was not his fault, people still refused to listen because the Wizarding World would rather believe a lie that made them feel good, rather than the crushing truth.

"I thought that was the whole purpose of disguising the name of the company. So people don't recognize you."

"Despite what you may think, Zabini, people aren't as stupid as you've been led to believe." Draco told him, rolling his eyes. He finished his coffee before tossing the empty cup into the trash can at the side of his desk.

"I joined this firm because of you, Draco." Blaise said simply, his meaning clear. "But I'm starting to regret my decision."

"You would walk out on me?!" Draco snapped at his friend. "I thought our friendship meant more to you than money Zabini."

"Of course it does. I was with you and Scorpius when Astoria—,"

"_Watch it_, Zabini." Draco all but growled at his friend. "Don't go there."

Blaise winced. "Sorry. I know it's still a sore subject." Draco gripped the coffee mug tighter, trying not to break from what Blaise was saying. It still hurt to think about, even after all of this time. "But it's been _seven years_, Draco. You would think that—,"

"I _said_… Don't _go _there, Blaise."

"She was my friend too, Draco." Blaise muttered under his breath, but the Italian gave him a look that greatly resembled pity. Draco frowned. He _hated_ when someone pitied him. But Draco didn't need his pity. He didn't need _anyone's_ pity. He had his son, and his mother, and that's all that really mattered wasn't it?

Zabini cleared his throat to ease the tension in the room. "Anyway, we both know that in order to maintain the lifestyle to which you and I are so accustomed, that requires a stable and steady income. And as of right now, we have neither."

"I _know _that." Draco said, rubbing his forehead. His head was starting to pound and it was barely 9:00. Much too early for a headache. He sighed. "You're right. We have to do something, or we risk losing it all."

With his father still in Azkaban, and his mother wanting to keep up societal appearances, he had to do something about his cash flow problem.

"I've been thinking." Blaise was saying, "What if we downsize, cut our number of litigators in half? I think we could afford the loss of staff. We'd save a bundle, but everyone would have double the course work. You're good with finances, you tell me."

Draco thought for a moment, adding and subtracting numbers in his head. "It could work," he finally said, after a minute of deliberation. "We'd _just _make it, but we'd survive. For another month." He grumbled, his lips pressed into a hard line. "But then the bills would just come again, and we couldn't afford to cut _more _staff."

"We just need _one _client." Blaise said, his expression thoughtful. "One client who can raise the name and reputation of our firm."

"Yeah." Draco agreed sarcastically. "Now if only that person would drop from the sky."

A knock on the door broke Draco's concentration. The red head of Lisa, Blaise's favorite secretary poked her head into the room. Her eyes found Blaise first as he turned to face her, before fixing them on Draco. Her eyes roamed his face, before traveling to his chest and further down.

"You do realize that you've interrupted a very important meeting?" He raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her behavior.

She flickered, focusing on what she originally came in to the room to do. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini, I apologize for disturbing you, but there's a new client you should see."

"A new client? Why should _we_ have to see this new client?" Draco asked her. "Just dump him on one of the junior associates and don't bother us about him."

"But _she's_—," Lisastarted to say but Blaise cut her off.

"Whoever _she _is, can't be all that interesting."

And Draco couldn't help but agree. After all, no important clients had come to his firm since Neville Longbottom. And he knew he had to be facing bankruptcy when he called _Neville Longbottom_, the Magical failure, an _important client_.

"Did she say what she wanted?" Draco asked.

"Well…" Lisa told them. "She just wants a consultation, but she said she's willing to pay any amount to keep the fact that she came in here _confidential_." The secretary whispered the last word. "Trust me, Sir. She can afford it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. So they finally had a rich client, then hm? "And who exactly is this client that seeks_ utmost confidentiality_?" He stood and made his way to the door of his office. Opening it, he peered outside, and his jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw who was sitting in his lobby twiddling her thumbs nervously.

Hermione Granger.

* * *

**So that was this chapter! The next should get more into Scorpius' life a bit more, before all of the kids finally go to Hogwarts and Hermione has her first taste of being a professor.**

**You guys have no idea how much reviews make me smile. So please leave me one, even if it's just a word or two :D**

**Little Martian~**


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